


Not My Enemy

by musicalfae



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-06-08 18:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19475809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalfae/pseuds/musicalfae
Summary: Rhys and Feyre have escaped Tamlin and Amarantha, and their relationships with them. Except, Rhys and Tamlin are still out to get each other and there’s even more at stake than ever before because Rhysand will do anything to protect Feyre. Feyre still has trouble trusting Rhys, even though there’s an undeniable spark between the two. Will saving Rhys’s life unleash Tamlin’s wrath? Can Rhys convince Feyre to trust him? Because being her friend is better than being nothing at all to her.





	1. Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go! I’m so excited for this fic, but I’m not completely sure where this will end up, but I certainly have plans for it. If you prefer to read this on Tumblr or you want to read more of my fics(I hope you will), my account is @musicalfae.
> 
> I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown, tumblr or fanfiction.net it has been reposted without my permission.

Rhys had had one hell of a night. Racing down the dark avenue, he only slowed momentarily to catch a glimpse of his pursuers. Luckily, there was no one behind him, meaning he had outrun the rival gang’s members. His ex-girlfriend, Amarantha, had sold him out to the leader of the Spring gang, Tamlin. Rhys dove into an empty store on one of the side streets that ran along the avenue. Gasping for breath, he reached into his pocket to retrieve a burner phone. He dialed the only person he could call, praying that she would pick up.  
“Hello?” A cautious, yet silky feminine voice drawled on the other line. Rhys sighed in relief.  
“Don’t hang up, please! I need your help, Feyre.” He begged, voice cracking on her name. A wave of dizziness overcame him momentarily, and he clutched his arm to try and staunch the bleeding. He clenched his teeth against the pain, unable to stop a grunt as he pinched the wound to seal it off. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he realized Feyre’s line had gone deathly silent. Then she inhaled sharply.  
“I’m coming to find you.” Determination filled her voice. Then- “Are you… are you hurt?” Rhys was beyond surprised to hear concern, no, worry in her tone.  
“I’m fine. Just a little stab wound,”  
“Rhys!” Feyre exclaimed, sounds of shuffling and the jingling of keys were audible. “Where are you?” He then proceeded to tell her his location, hoping against all odds that she would have mercy on him. Mercy, because Feyre Archeron had once promised to kill him, and cauldron knew that she most definitely could.  
He began to dream of the night that they first met, and of the deal that they had struck:  
He had planned on going to the roof to escape the noise, but he had hesitated upon seeing a beautiful, golden-haired woman practically running from the obnoxiously loud ballroom. From an outsider’s perspective, it looked like a huge company party full of snobby rich people. In actuality, it was filled to the brim with gang bosses, members, and the occasional hacker. The ball was the only day each year that the gangs even pretended to be civil with each other. He eventually decided to follow the woman out the exterior door that she had gone through to make sure she was safe. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” Rhysand purred at the gorgeous woman standing before him as the door closed behind him with a click. She was wearing a long, forest green gown that accentuated her already devastating figure. The woman scoffed at him before running her eyes up and down his own body. Damn him if it didn’t make his heart pick up its pace in his chest. He chastised himself for his thoughts. He had a girlfriend, albeit an abusive and controlling one that always had some way to blackmail him.  
“You’re a prick, you know that, right?” Her eyes blazed with fire and amusement that had feelings stirring in Rhys that he admittedly hadn’t felt in a long time. Or ever.  
“The name’s Rhysand, not prick, but I’m fine with anything you call me as long as it is coming out of that delicious mouth of yours, Darling.” She rolled her eyes at his antics, before dropping her eyes to the ground.  
“My name is Feyre,” She whispered before continuing, her next words ones that chilled Rhys to his very core, “Tamlin doesn’t like me talking to anyone.” Icy rage shot through Rhys’s veins like adrenaline. How could anyone be so cruel? Then he realized: wasn’t that what Amarantha had been doing to him? Isolating him from his friends. His rage dulled into sadness for the both of them. Rhys took a few tentative steps closer to Feyre and tilted her chin up.  
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not just anyone.” He murmured, his breath caressing her forehead. Even in such high heels, Rhys had about five inches on her. She shivered, causing him to be concerned. He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, and her shivering stopped.  
“Thank you.” She murmured, rubbing her hands over her gloved arms to warm them up. One of her gloves slipped down her forearm; that was when he saw the bruises. His fury returned in full force at what Tamlin had done to her. Her eyes widened as she realized that her arms had been exposed.  
“I can help you.” Rhys whispered. She shook her head.  
“Please leave me alone.” She drew back from him.  
“I- I can’t.” He silently pleaded with her to return to his embrace, so he could protect her. She pulled out a vicious looking knife and it clattered to the ground when she threw it away.  
“I was supposed to kill you. Tamlin told me to stab you when I lured you out here, but I can’t. You’re- you’re so different than what I thought you’d be.” Her voice was thick with guilt. Rhys realized that he should have known better than to fall for such a trick. Then again, she had seemed to be in genuine pain.  
“I guess I owe you then.” He regarded her in a flat tone, but when he met her gaze, he let his expression show the true offer there. Do you need me to get you out? He asked through his eyes. She nodded, only a small sliver of doubt in her eyes as she extended her hand to shake his.  
“If you’re lying to me, then I’ll kill you. But we have a bargain.” He gripped her small hand in his large one.  
“Then I swear to never lie to you, Feyre Darling.” Her eyes softened, and they hurried away from the party, but not carefully enough to escape the notice of a certain red-haired henchman, who finally did something to help his friend Feyre. He told Tamlin nothing.  
In the three weeks since he’d helped her to get away from Tamlin, Feyre and him had finally built a tentative trust between themselves. Rhys knew that she would not be happy about him going on such a dangerous mission without telling her or anyone else in the gang first, but Rhys just had to go after Tamlin. Tamlin, who was still apparently very angry about the disappearance of his girlfriend, who was coincidentally his best person in the field. Tamlin had taken to giving Feyre low paying, low risk jobs in order to keep control over her. Rhys sighed in resignation. At least Amarantha was gone forever; she had been sleeping with Tamlin for the past year. Luckily, Tamlin still had no idea where Feyre was; she was living in Rhys’s own apartment on the other side of the city. Rhys was losing consciousness from the blood loss, and his surroundings were starting to slip away from him. The last thing he thought of before he succumbed to darkness was the look that would be on Feyre’s face when she heard what had become of her ex-lover and what Rhys had done and still planned to do to him.

Twenty minutes later, Rhys was shaken awake by a pair of small hands with slight calluses and definite strength despite their size.  
“Rhys!” It was Feyre. This was the first time she had ever used his preferred name; she always called home either Rhysand or Prick. She gently slapped him, and he forced his eyes open a crack.  
“Feyre,” He murmured, his voice coming out as a breathy whisper. He traced her cheekbone with his fingers, unable to keep his mask up in his weakened state. Feyre could probably see every emotion in his eyes before they drifted closed again. The darkness beckoned him into its depths. Rhys knew that he didn’t have much time left. He felt himself slipping away.  
“Rhys, please.” There was so much distress in her voice, and resolve too, that she sounded like she maybe…cared for him. Rhys didn’t actually believe this, of course. He was darkness, she was light, but when she held his hand and started to lift him, he made himself hold on. He just needed to keep the darkness at bay for a little longer.


	2. Only In Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys is a dork. Fluff ensues. Then a surprise phone call....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find this on Tumblr if you’d rather read it there or be tagged

The darkness had always been merciful, thought Rhys as it finally freed him from its grasp. Light swam behind his closed eyelids, so he risked cracking them open to get a glimpse of his surroundings. He was in his bedroom, but something was different. The curtains were open, for one, but that wasn’t what knocked the breath out of Rhys’s lungs. He turned his head to the side to see Feyre, completely passed out on top of the covers on the other side of the bed. She had curled up near him in her sleep, her waking tendency to dislike him was forgotten. He sighed as her head rested completely against his shoulder. She smiled at something she was dreaming about, and Rhys couldn’t help but wonder what had succeeded in making her happy when he’d seldom been able to after she arrived here. His answer came to him as a single word, whispered in a release of breath from Feyre’s mouth:  
“Rhys,”  
Feyre  
Keeping up the façade of disliking Rhys had become difficult for Feyre. He was completely adorable, and for someone who was paid to sneak into places and “make people disappear”, he was incredibly dorky. The first morning when she woke up, he was already awake, and could be found in the kitchen making delicious Mickey Mouse pancakes, and humming cheesy pop hits. Once, she had even caught him singing ABBA’s ‘Waterloo’ into a spatula. When she asked him about the pancakes, he shrugged and said, “You have been through a lot lately, and breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Need I continue, Darling?”  
She couldn’t help rolling her eyes. She turned around before he could see that he had made her smile. She then retreated to her room, wordlessly marveling that he had managed to make her actually smile when she hadn’t been able to in months.  
His dorkiness was the least of her problems, though. He was undeniably attractive, that much was obvious. His attractiveness hadn’t been an issue. Until she’d accidentally walked in on him in the shower. She hadn’t meant to, of course. She’d had earbuds in, and he’d forgotten to lock the door. She hadn’t seen… everything, but she’d seen too much of his strong shoulders, toned abdomen, and powerful legs to get him out of her head. He had kept her up at night thinking about him, water dripping over his pectorals, and trailing further down.  
She shuddered at the thought. For some reason, everything felt foggy. Feyre didn’t realize that she’d been dreaming until hands gently shook her awake.  
“Feyre, wake up.” It was Rhys. Feyre’s shoulders shot up straight in the bed. She groaned as her head spun from the sudden movement and from waking up from a much needed nap. He was lying next to her on the bed, leaning slightly over her. There was a grim expression on his face, and if Feyre didn’t know better… she’d have thought she saw longing flash in his eyes tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.  
“Morning, Rhys,” Feyre murmured as he leaned back into his pillow. They were in his room, she realized as she took in the gray walls and lightly colored wood furniture.  
“How long was I out?” He sounded a bit breathless.  
“Five days,” His eyes went wide as she continued, “You lost a lot of blood, and I- I was afraid you weren’t going to make it.”  
“You were afraid for me?” He placed a hand on his chest in mock bewilderment.  
“Ha ha. You should have told me where you were going.”  
“Would you have let me go alone if I’d told you? Feyre paused and gave him a look that said, Of course I would have come with you if I’d known. He sighed and ran a hand down his face before continuing, “I know it was wrong of me to go after them. God, Feyre, I know. I should have waited for Mor and the others to get here, but I can’t stand that you wake up most nights from nightmares about him. I can’t stand that she still haunts me day and night.” He looked so guilty, even though he was just trying to help them both.  
She tentatively wrapped her arms around him, careful of his still wounded arm. He hugged her back with his uninjured arm, and he buried his head into the crook of her neck, murmuring “I’m so sorry” over and over. She traced soothing circles onto his back.  
She accidentally brushed the skin on his lower back where his shirt had ridden up. Feyre immediately pulled away, mumbling an apology and said something about getting them both something to eat.  
“Feyre?” Rhys asked her as she reached the doorway.  
“Yes.”  
“I thought you hated me.” He whispered, voice full of both dread and hope.  
“I did. I do still sometimes, but only when you’re being a prick,” He laughed at that.  
“Fair enough. Does this mean we’re friends now?” She gave him a wicked grin.  
“You bet it does, Bat Boy,”  
“That’s Batman to you,” He teased.  
She flipped him an obscene gesture behind her back before murmuring, “Prick,” under her breath and went off in search of food from the cabinet.  
Rhys  
The phone beside the bed rang and Rhys yelled, “I’ll get it, it’s probably Mor!” He picked up the old fashioned 80’s phone and twisted the cord around his finger.  
“Hello,” He greeted the person on the other line. He felt the blood drain from his face when he heard the other person speak.  
“Ah, Rhysand, always a pleasure. It seems Feyre Archeron is living with you now, how nice for you. Now, here is what I want,” Alarm bells started blaring in Rhys’s head at the familiarity of the voice on the other line. Shit. Shit. Shit.  
“Rhys, who is it?” Feyre had a tray with what looked to be two bowls of Spaghetti O’s placed on top of it. Rhys covered the speaker of the phone by placing it against his chest. Rhys knew how pale he must’ve looked.  
“It’s Hybern.”


	3. A Precipice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys and Feyre visit Hybern’s Court. Angst ensues, and things get interesting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some trouble with Ao3 and paragraph breaks. If you want a less messy version, check Tumblr

-Feyre- “This is not good. This is not good.” Mor muttered as she paced the apartment. Feyre couldn’t have agreed more; the demands Hybern had made of Rhys were almost driving Feyre to tears of frustration. Feyre couldn’t keep her mind off of the threat that was clearly aimed at her. “If you aren’t out of Rhys’s cabal by the end of the week, we’re going to have some issues, aren’t we Elain?” Hybern was such a devil. Feyre’s sister had been put on the line after Feyre had demanded to hear it from her lips so she knew that what Hybern had said was true. “Feyre? Feyre, is that you? Please, he’s got me locked up, I” She was cut off as Hybern drawled again from his side of the line. “That’s enough from you, little doe. You have five days.” With that, the line had cut off. Now, about six hours later, Feyre was shaking slightly, and she couldn’t seem to get rid of the sickening chill that had crawled its was up her spine. Her hope was starting to fade, and that left her feeling like she was about to pass out. Luckily, Rhys noticed the shift and ushered Mor into the dining room, murmuring something into her ear that Feyre was barely to make out other than when Rhys said “Call Az.” Mor nodded and vanished from the apartment, presumably to find a burner phone. Rhys returned a few moments later with a mug of hot tea. He walked her over to the couch and she leaned against him for support. He tensed slightly before sliding an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go find her.” Feyre stated with determination. Rhys agreed readily, and despite some hesitation from Mor, set off to go find Elain. That’s how they ended up in the darkest, dirtiest part of the slums of Velaris. Feyre sighed as she remembered when she was a child how beautiful the city had been when it was led by a royal family, their names forgotten by time and erased from the minds of most people who lived in Velaris. Her own mother had died just before the uprising, so she never had to see her beloved city or husband fall into despair. The Spring gang had killed the ruling lord, his wife, and their two children; some said that Tamlin himself had killed them. Tamlin was thirty six to her twenty four. She had been fifteen, less than a year younger than the lord’s eldest son had been, when the gangs took over after slowly gaining power for several decades. Would Elain be slaughtered too, just like the lord and lady’s children had been? Feyre shook the thought out of her mind. As if reading her thoughts, Rhys slowed his efficient walking pace to a stroll, and turned to her. -Rhys- “I miss it too. The music, the lights,” He murmured, a remorseful look crossing over his face, “I lost everyone I loved that night.” The gangs had been ruthless, unforgiving in their path to controlling the city. Feyre remained silent until she tentatively reached out and took his hand. He sighed, glad that she hadn’t asked more about his confession, knowing how risky it would be to reveal his secrets in such a place. Suddenly, there was a distinct crunching sound, the sound of one carelessly loud footstep. Rhys dropped Feyre’s hand and continued walking for a few moments. He pretended to ignore the Hybernian guard stalking them, Feyre following suit. He knew what he needed to do; he took Feyre by the waist and presses her up against a nearby wall and kissed her. -Feyre- Rhys was kissing her. Rhys was kissing her, and she was kissing him back. The footsteps stopped. Feyre wove her fingers into his hair, just as she had dreamed of doing ever since he had woken up from the injury. Rhys ran his tongue over her lower lip, and she opened her mouth. Feyre groaned into his mouth and his hands tightened around her waist. There was the unmistakable sound of someone turning around and practically running in the other direction. Rhys pulled away too quickly, something sad and something like shame flashed in his eyes as he averted them. Feyre quickly realized what she had done, and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. After what he had been through, he probably never wanted to be touched again, let alone be kissed. Rhys had told her in a loose explanation of what Amarantha had done to him. Then again, he had initiated the kiss, even though he probably didn’t want anything like that from her. Feyre felt like she had jumped from a precipice, and she could only hope that something would stop her from her guilt and loneliness before it was too late. Because kissing Rhys had made her feel something that made her want to hold on. They walked in silence the rest of the way to Hybern’s lair. -Azriel- In spite of their disguises, Azriel knew the minute Feyre and Rhysand walked into the darkness of the converted hotel that Hybern had turned into his own sick version of a palace. To be fair, Mor had called him ahead of time, but he would have recognized one of his closest friends and “the Huntress”, or as he knew her, Feyre Archeron. Az had been in deep cover for the past few weeks, scouting out Hybern’s defense system and helping captives escape. Hybern had no reason to suspect his new security ‘lackey’ was Rhysand’s highest level spy. He reported everything he learned directly to Mor. Azriel had been incredibly surprised to find that the beautiful young woman that Tamlin had dragged into the main cavern was, in fact, Feyre’s sister Elain. Morrigan had filled him in on the situation. Most surprising of anything was the way that Rhys was looking at Feyre. Somehow, in the past month that he’d been in this gilded hellhole, Rhysand had fallen for the most elusive assassin in the city. Azriel didn’t have to question why Feyre could mean enough to Rhys for him to risk everything for her sister, no, he questioned why Lucien cringed every time Tamlin’s hand reached out to graze Elain’s shoulder. He didn’t have to wait long to find out. Because it was then that Tamlin leaned down to kiss Elain, and she kissed him back. -Rhys- Feyre hadn’t even tried to be subtle when she fled from the lobby, and Rhys hadn’t hesitated for a second when he followed her. Even though two onyx eyes that haunted his nightmares had followed his every movement, her red lips twisting into a sadistic smirk as she saw how his face paled when she dragged her nails dug groves into the wood of her chair. -Amarantha- Rhysand had no idea of the deliciously dreadful things Amarantha planned to do to him and his Feyre. She stifled her cough until she got out of the throne room and into her private suite. The napkin that she used to cover her mouth came up bloody. She grinned at her reflection in the mirror, well, it was less of a grin and more of a scowl. With the blood dripping down the corner of her mouth and the hard look in her onyx eyes, she looked and felt ready to take down the Night gang and it’s lordling, even if it was the last thing she would ever do. Another coughing fit overcame her, and she collapsed onto her bed. -Elain- Elain squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples when Tamlin finally let her return to her room. The tiny hotel room on the top floor of the hotel felt less like a room than a cage. The events of the past week flew through her mind as she struggled to recall anything other than the pure terror she had felt when Tamlin told her that she would be killed if she didn’t accompany him to Hybern’s… residence. Only at night did she let the tears fall. Only at night did she let herself mourn her parents and the life she once had. Before all of this, before Hybern took everything away. There was a knock on the door, and Elain brushed her tears away quickly. No one here knocked. Ever. The man pushed the door open, and she saw someone she didn’t expect. The handsome man who had been watching her in the hotel lobby closed the door behind him with a resounding click. His hazel eyes softened as he took in her disheveled appearance. “Miss Elain? I’m Azriel. I’m here to help you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter! For more notes, see my Tumblr post on my account of the same name!


	4. Pawns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hybern has plans for everyone, it seems. No need to summarize, you’ll have more fun if you’re surprised ;)  
> Also only the Tumblr version has italics bc I’m too lazy to italicize three times

Elain  
“Checkmate!” Elain squealed as she finally finally beat Az in chess. He chuckled before wincing at the sound of the guards outside the door coming to attention at Elain’s excited cheers. Both of them were quick to quiet and fearful glances were exchanged between the two. One of the soldiers burst in, and with a disapproving glare, he slammed the door shut on his way out.  
Elain was so overcome with relief that she wound her arms around Azriel’s neck, and despite everything, she giggled. Azriel tensed before sliding his arms around her waist and placing her on his lap. It was so good to have a friend here, after Tamlin’s insane notion that her sister would find out about his interest in Elain and become jealous. Elain believed that Feyre would be revolted at the notion of her ex-lover and sister together, especially if the way that Tamlin had treated Feyre was anything like the way he was treating Elain.  
The past three days of being dragged into the debauchery and malice of Hybern’s affairs in the main hall had finally caught up to Elain. She found her eyelids were beginning to droop and her head becoming too heavy to lift. She fell asleep on a warm, muscular chest and she found that, for the first time in weeks, she felt safe. Even though she knew she was running out of time.

Azriel

Azriel was in deep trouble. He had become far too tempted by the allure that was Elain Archeron in the past days. He was scared of how quickly she’d gotten past his walls and how quickly he’d allowed himself to trust her with every piece of his broken heart. His heart, that she’d somehow managed to both warm and heal and hold in both of her delicate hands.  
Azriel resolved that he wouldn’t tell her how he felt, for she was too precious to him to risk losing her. However, it was incredibly difficult to deny the staggering beat of his heart and the longing that he felt when she was asleep like this in his arms. Smoothing her hair with a scarred palm, he allowed sleep to finally grasp his consciousness as well.

Feyre

Feyre hadn’t truly slept in a long time. When she succumbed to the temptress that was slumber, she was bombarded by nightmares, the likes of such she hadn’t had since she was with Tamlin. Tamlin had never once woken up, or at least he’d pretended to be asleep when she hurled her guts up or cried at the memory of her parents dying. He would complain, though, that she had been too loud in sleep the night before. Feyre sighed and got out of bed to make herself some herbal tea.  
The second she opened her door, she heard noises coming from down the hall. Rhys’s room. She hesitated, wondering if, perhaps, he had brought someone home. They hadn’t spoken of their kiss in the days since it occured. The tension between them was starting to become unbearable for Feyre, and she longed for the sensation of Rhysand’s full lips on hers.They hadn’t made any promises to each other, nor had they discussed what existed between them. Even still, Feyre didn’t think she could stomach seeing-or hearing-him with someone else.  
The noises began again, but they were not the sounds of her- of Rhys in the throes of passion. No, they were the screams of someone in agony. 

Rhysand

“Kneel.” Red hair red hair red hair. Blood blood my blood. Get me out save me stop this. Rhys’s mind and heart were racing. A sinister smile flashed across the forefront of his mind. That same smile as she strangled someone else. Golden-brown hair and bloodshot blue-gray eyes. Rhys began screaming and sobbing and tearing at the sheets of his bed. His chest and forehead felt damp. Suddenly, there was a weight on his chest, and he tensed, preparing for the worst. Except nothing happened; the weight on his chest wasn’t hurting him, wasn’t making him uncomfortable. “Rhys? Rhys!” The voice was pleading with him now.  
Hands grasped his shoulders and pulled him back into reality. 

Hybern  
Hybern had Rhysand and the Night gang right where he wanted them. Once Feyre was with Tamlin again, the leader of the Spring gang would help him seize control of the manor that the royal family had once inhabited. Everything was falling into place. Except for Hybern’s greatest fear. No, the prince was dead. There was no possible way he could have survived the destruction that had been wrought upon the city when Tamlin and his father had killed the High Lord and the High Lady of Velaris. Even if tamlin himself had told Hybern that the young prince had not been executed that night.  
He called for Azriel to bring his latest reports. Hiring the boy had been a godsend, not that Hybern believed in any god. No, to him, the true god was power, and since he had the most of it, he believed himself to be the most holy.  
Azriel dutifully told him news of the movements of the Day gang and the Winter gangs’ spies. None of them, it seemed, were too keen on attempting to penetrate Hybern’s security.  
Hybern thanked Azriel and asked him to send a maid to deliver Amarantha’s nighttime ‘tonic’.  
“Oh, one last thing,” Hybern beckoned his guard back to his throne in the top floor suite of his hotel.  
“Yes, sir?” The young man raised his eyebrows expectantly.  
“In two days time, you will be required to either escort Elain Archeron to the lobby or… you will be required to shoot her in the head. Understood?” He searched the man’s face for signs of hesitancy or betrayal. He found neither on his solemn face, but in his eyes… fear.  
“Understood, sir. Will that be all?” Azriel’s voice was stiff, almost too stiff but not quite. The silent man didn’t have the demeanour of someone how was disloyal, but Hybern sensed that he was missing something important.  
“That’s all.” Hybern pursed his lips at the man’s retreating figure. Once the door was shut, he allowed himself to smirk.  
Hybern found that poisoning Amarantha to motivate her was invigorating. And no one suspected anything.  
Feyre  
Grasping her warm mug in her hands, Feyre listened as Rhys explained what he had told Az to do and what the spy had reported about Elain’s state.  
“She’s okay, Feyre.” Feyre nearly collapsed against the counter she was leaning on in relief. A few moments passed in comfortable silence as Rhys poured himself a cup of tea and sat beside her on the counter.  
“Are you okay, Rhys?” No answer. “When I heard you earlier, I thought- I thought that maybe there was someone with you,” Rhys’s head whipped around to look at her, eyebrows raising up to his hairline. Feyre continued, “Then I heard you scream. Rhys, I’ve never been that scared in my entire life.” She released a breath.  
Rhys shook his head. “I’m not completely okay, Darling. I don’t know if I’ll ever be, but I feel better every day. You have no idea how much you make me want to feel okay. You make me feel alive, more alive than I’ve felt since her. Thank you.”  
“You make me feel alive too.” Feyre whispered, warmth spreading through her at the tender look in his eyes. He smiled at her, a real, full smile that made her feel like she was floating.  
Feyre reached up to trace his smile and Rhys’s eyes fluttered closed. When they opened, they were half lidded with desire. “Feyre.” He purred, and she surged forward to press her lips against his like she’d longed to since their last kiss, even sooner if she were being honest with herself.  
When she slid her tongue along his lower lip, he pulled away, leaving Feyre confused and cold without the warmth of him. “We can’t, Feyre. Not until this is all over. All of this Hybern business. I would like to properly court you, and I can’t do that while Hybern is still ruining this city.” He looked just as disappointed as she did, but Feyre understood. She nodded. He ghosted a lingering kiss over her forehead, causing her to shiver and him to smirk.  
Feyre watched Rhys’s retreating figure walk all the way down the hallway until he turned around at his room to murmur, just loud enough for Feyre to hear, “Don’t let the hard days win.”  
Despite the horror surrounding her, Feyre fell asleep smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally wrote it! :)


End file.
